Viola Whiting takes a break on the shore in 1923, three years after women were granted the right to vote with the 19th Amendment to the Constitution.

Viola Whiting, born in 1900, checks out a pedicab in 1981 in Xian, a city in Central China. The Laguna Woods resident traveled extensively with money from a stock portfolio she built. She died in 1988.

Viola Whiting, born in 1900, visits the Great Wall of China in 1978. The woman on the left is a tour guide. The Laguna Woods resident traveled extensively with money from a stock portfolio she built before her death in 1988.

Viola Whiting, columnist David Whiting's grandmother, visits with her son, Allen, in 1975 in front of her condo at then Leisure World, now Laguna Woods. Born in 1900, Viola Whiting continued delivering blood for the Red Cross before arthritis curbed her activies in the early 1980s.

Just before moving to then Leisure World in south Orange County, L. Robert Whiting (left) and wife, Viola, enjoy a celebratory dinner.

The year after World War II ended, Viola Seuss Whiting started building a nest egg by investing in the stock market.

With her husband, L. Robert, and seven-year-old son, Allen, behind, Viola Seuss Whiting poses in 1933 for the camera. On the back of this photo she wrote, "The wife and mother in the foreground with the husband and family appropriately in the background."

A new mother, Viola Whiting cuddles with her son, Allen, in 1927. His successes would become her successes for the next 18 years.

After two years of college and working in Chicago, Viola Seuss married L. Robert Whiting (left), a chemist. Born in 1900, she also had the opportunity to vote, with women's suffrage being approved in 1920.

Viola Seuss takes a moment for the camera in April, 1915. She was planning on graduating university but her brothers were given preferance when money ran short.

Smart and ambitious, Viola Seuss poses while accepting an award in high school.

Viola Seuss at two years old in 1902. Her father owned a glass factory that made leaded stained glass lamps and cut mirrors. The factory burned down and the lamps are collector's items today.

Columnist David Whiting's grandmother, Viola Seuss Whiting, offers some marriage tips on the eve of David Whiting's wedding in 1982. Tip: Listen to your wife.

The air in the Buick is stifling as my grandmother cruises past rolling hills of dried grass while fighter jets from the El Toro Marine Base scream overhead.

Their roar reverberates through the car. But the only thing I can think of is that we’re passing the one place I hoped Grandma would stop – the newly opened Lion Country Safari.

The name alone promises adventure. And a sign guarantees it: “No Trespassing. Violators Will Be Eaten!”

But a small cooler on the seat between us means there is no stopping for wild animals on this day.

It’s 1971 and with her husband, my grandfather, dead five years, Viola Seuss Whiting is committed to picking up where Grandpa left off.

Nearly every day, my father’s mother roams the county in her Buick as a Red Cross volunteer delivering blood.

The only other thing certain about Grandma driving the Buick is that the air conditioner is never on.

Such is the way of life for this woman who was a mom during the Great Depression, and came of age when women didn’t have the same rights as men.

Like many women of her era, she was a woman in conflict with her times.

• • •

To say Mother’s Day is a special day seems redundant. Sorry, dads. But Mom’s Day rules.

Mother’s Day was named first, several years before Father’s Day. It outsells everything from cards to flowers. And without a reservation, don’t even think about going to a restaurant.

But there was a time when moms didn’t rule, when women were second class citizens and their glass ceiling was the secretarial pool.

My grandmother was born in 1900. When President Woodrow Wilson named Mother’s Day as an official national holiday, the future Mrs. Whiting was 14 years old.

Before she died in 1988 after living in then Leisure World for two decades, Grandma enjoyed her share of Mother’s Days. But she also harbored a deep bitterness about the limitations she faced because of her gender.

Grandma was 20 years old when the U.S. Constitution had to be amended to give women the right to vote.

Since then, much has changed. In a post-feminist era, few question whether a mother elects to be a full-time mom or pursues a career.

But when Grandma was coming of age, a career wasn’t really an option in her middle-class world.

The young Viola Seuss managed two years of college. But the money ran out and she was forced to drop out while her brothers graduated.

Did it make Grandma angry? Only with humans.

Still, as we drive below pilots preparing for missions over Vietnam, I know better than to call Grandma a feminist.

She’d give me a look that could turn a plum into a prune.

• • •

Smart and ambitious, Grandma channeled her energies into her only child, my father.

By the time he was in high school, he was a budding a concert pianist and had been onstage and radio – pursuits he dropped after leaving home for college.

Grandma also volunteered. Living in New Jersey, she was program director for a women’s organization, assisted a theater professor at Rutgers, taught glove making…

But Grandma’s real secret for staying sane was exercise and creating her own career.

After World War II, Grandma saved $500 and invested it in the stock market. Every day, she scanned the Dow Jones listings, read about the ways of Wall Street, and carefully filed away what she learned in her desk and in her mind.

She reinvested every dividend into what grew into a modest collection of blue chip stocks.

After my Grandfather died in Leisure World in 1966, Grandma’s stock portfolio took her to Africa, Cambodia, China – places where few single women traveled.

• • •

During my visit as a high school sophomore, Grandma is less than impressed with my swim team physique.

She declares, “You should try the Marine workout.”

With that, she launches into a series of stretches, pushups, sit-ups, squats and lunges.

For lunch, she serves a salad of lettuce and fresh fruit topped with plain yogurt. She heads to her refrigerator and offers a jar of nutrients and vitamins called “Wheat Germ.”

The name alone prompts me to say, “No thanks.”

Of course, that prompts Grandma to dump on an extra scoop.

In the afternoon, she invites me to watch her lawn-bowl. She pops open the Buick’s trunk and pulls out a leather case. Inside, there are several black balls, each engraved with an elephant.

I’ve glanced at Grandma’s elephant collection, but never given it thought. There are shelves of elephants, glass, porcelain, even one made from real elephant hide.

Grandma smiles as she points to one of the balls. With President Nixon in the White House, she explains, “Republican party.”

But it turns out that there’s more to these balls.

• • •

Grandma, in the early stages of arthritis, makes it a point to stride into the lawn bowling area.

A gaggle of men approaches, “Viola!”

Their greetings are more than enthusiastic. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s the only woman lawn bowling, if it’s because she’s still a pretty curvy gal, or if it’s something else. As the next few hours unfold, it’s clear it’s the something else.

My Grandmother is the most competitive person on the greens.

The idea of lawn bowling is that you get your ball, or “bowl,” as close as possible to a small white ball.

But Grandma has a different idea. She loves nothing more than sending the men’s balls skittering by smashing her balls into the men’s balls.

And, yes, there are enough ribald puns to make a high school kid blush.

• • •

Grandma liked to say that she’d swallow her last quarter. It was theonly promise she failed to keep. She left a small inheritance and something else.

When I was a young boy, she didn’t let me sleep until I memorized the Lord’s Prayer.

David Whiting is the award-winning Metro Columnist at The Orange County Register. He also can be heard on radio, has served as a television news anchor and speaks frequently at organizations and universities. He previously was an assistant managing editor and has received Columbia University’s Race and Ethnicity Award, National Headliner awards and Sigma Delta Chi’s Public Service Award. He recently was invited to participate in an exchange program with Chinese journalists. He earned his undergraduate degree from the University of Michigan and his master’s from Columbia University’s Graduate School for Journalism. He is a two-time Ironman, a two-time Boston marathoner and has climbed the highest mountains in Africa and North and South America.

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